Alpha’s Pink Luna

Chapter 3: Queen Mother

Waiting to see an older woman — maybe wrinkled, regal, the kind of queen who gave off villain energy — was not what greeted me when the door opened.

Instead, a woman who looked barely my age stepped gracefully into the room. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-seven. Her hair was pulled into a sleek, tight French bun dusted with glitter — and not just in her hair. Glitter shimmered everywhere: across her pale shoulders, along the folds of her corseted dress, even tracing her high cheekbones like stardust. Her gown was a dazzling shade of light blue, tight at the waist, her heels sharp enough to make me question if this was all some kind of joke.

‘I assure you this is all real, Mishka,’ Rose’s voice murmured in my head, calm but amused. ‘The original host hated this most of all. She despised how others found her plain — even envied their beauty — because her eyes were pink. But no one else had eyes like hers. And honestly, I can’t be too angry at her for that insecurity.’

“Pink eyes?” I muttered aloud. “You mean she had some kind of eye inflammation? Like the membrane infection — the one that makes the white part red and itchy?”

In my mind, I saw Rose — a magnificent pink wolf — roll her eyes.

‘No,’ she said dryly. ‘Not the sickness. The original Mishka was born with actual pink-colored eyes, like mine. That’s how everyone knew she carried me — the Pink Omega.’

I nodded slowly, trying to keep up, which only made her chuckle. The sound was low, almost affectionate.

In the space of my thoughts, I saw her stretch — long, elegant legs and soft fur glowing faintly — before lying down with one paw neatly over the other.

‘Such a peculiar little one,’ she murmured. ‘But a refreshing change. I think I’ll like you, Mishka. Perhaps together we’ll achieve blessings far greater than what was ever meant for us both.’😂

Rose’s interest in how different I was from the original host actually calmed me a little.

Still, the thought that my life could end at any moment made my nerves twist tighter with every passing second. Somehow, the diagnosis from my old life — the one that once terrified me — now felt almost trivial compared to this world’s version of this might kill me.

I let out a slow breath, trying to process how I was still alive at all. That’s when the woman finally spoke.

Her voice was smooth, but carried a strange rasp that made me cringe slightly — though Rose, of course, laughed in amusement.

“I am so happy to see you awake, my child,” the woman said warmly. “I’ve heard you’ve been struggling with your memory?”

Before I could even think of what to say, Rose’s tone flickered through my mind like a teasing whisper.

‘Tell her you didn’t take the potion because you woke me instead. She won’t be insulted — but be gentle. She’s a hugger.’

I blinked, confused but obedient. “I didn’t drink the potion,” I said softly. “My wolf woke up instead.”

The effect was immediate. Her whole demeanor changed in an instant — her expression softened, her posture relaxed, and then, without warning, she threw her arms around me.

I froze as she hugged me tightly, glitter and perfume pressing into my skin.

Inside my head, Rose was practically howling with laughter.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It honestly felt like I had a living, breathing mascot lodged inside my mind — one who found my awkwardness way too entertaining.

All of a sudden, the Queen Mother pushed me back — not gently, either — and with the same glittery smile plastered on her face, she shouted loud enough to make my eardrums cry for mercy.

“Prepare our Princess for her grand dinner night of celebration! Our kingdom has earned its first Pink Omega in over five hundred years!”

I blinked. Once. Twice. Maybe ten times.

A small army of maids seemed to materialize out of nowhere — like glitter-covered ninjas — each armed with brushes, fabrics, and something that looked suspiciously like torture devices disguised as beauty tools.

Before I could say a word, one of them was measuring my neck, another was tugging at my hair, and a third one was mumbling something about “enhancing her divine pink aura.”

Meanwhile, Rose was absolutely losing it in my head.

‘Oh, this is rich,’ she laughed. ‘The last time we had a “celebration,” the last human I had bit a duke. Try to aim higher this time.’

“Wait—what dinner? What celebration?” I tried to protest, but someone shoved a hairpin in my scalp hard enough to make me yelp.

Apparently, that was the royal cue for “shut up, smile, and sparkle.”

The Queen Mother clapped her hands, sending another small storm of blue glitter flying. “Make her shine brighter than the moon itself!” she commanded.

Rose purred in amusement. ‘Well, congratulations, my dear. You’ve just been upgraded from kidnapped human to royal confetti dispenser.’

I groaned. “If I sneeze glitter, I’m suing someone.”

That only made Rose laugh even harder while I felt like I was being dragged in every direction by an army of miniature maids. Each one had grabby little hands, and the more I tried to wiggle away from them, the more determined they became—as if taming me was some kind of group sport.

I flinched, half expecting them to start acting like the women from the cabin, when the Queen Mother suddenly gasped in delight.

“Oh, look at her in her red Faeriesty Elegant Evening Gown!” she squealed, clasping her glitter-coated hands together.

In seconds, four mini Didi-look-alikes scurried in, carrying a huge mirror between them. When they propped it up, I barely recognized the person staring back at me.

The reflection showed a woman in what the Queen called a Faeriesty Elegant Evening Gown—whatever that meant. It had intricate embroidery, sheer sleeves, and a heartbeat neckline that looked like it belonged on someone walking a red carpet, not on me.

My hair was pulled into a high, glossy ponytail, and my skin… wasn’t mine anymore. The pale, alabaster tone I’d known all my life was now a smooth bronze tan. My body—once soft and curvy—was suddenly slim and sculpted, and when I moved my hands to my chest, I nearly cried. My breasts. Gone. Betrayed by magic fashion.

At least my hips had decided to stay generous, and my legs were slimmer than I ever remembered. But nothing distracted me more than the color of my eyes—glowing neon pink. Real, living highlighter pink.

The jewelry covering me sparkled so much it could signal aircraft, and the red rubies on my wrists and neck gleamed like warning lights. I couldn’t help noticing that I now resembled the Queen Mother—if the Queen Mother were a walking disco ball.

“You look perfect!” she declared. “The spotlight will definitely be on you this evening!”

I forced a smile, nodding awkwardly. “Yay… me.”

Inside my head, Rose was snickering.

I prayed silently, Please don’t hug me again.

Letting out a nervous breath, I heard the sudden blast of trumpets right outside my room—so loud I nearly jumped out of my heels. Moments later, a small boy in a perfectly tailored blue suit stepped inside, his voice echoing like a royal announcement straight out of a movie.

“Announcing the arrival of the Royal King Alpha Marcus!”

Then the so-called King entered.

A short man with a bright red beard and a crown that was clearly too big for his head strutted in proudly. His royal robe—deep red with white-and-black spotted edges—flowed behind him like he was walking down a glittering runway. The train was so long it needed its own postal code.

I blinked. Once. Twice. Maybe ten times.

This was the “all mighty King”? In my new reality?

Because, apparently, the man before me was a little person. Or, well, more accurately… a midget king.

Rose’s voice burst into my thoughts, smug as ever.

‘He’s a Pumsky, Mishka. A small breed of werewolf that never grows taller than an average horse. Just like the announcer, Didi, and the maids. Royal werewolves, however, are usually the size of a five-floor motel, my dear.’

My jaw dropped.

If my eyes had gotten any wider, I’d have officially joined the owl species. A pink-eyed, overdressed owl in a glitter storm of royal chaos.